


Midnight Exigent

by DeMarcos



Category: Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits - David Wong
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kidnapping, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character Death(s), Sexual Tension, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeMarcos/pseuds/DeMarcos
Summary: Zoey and Will are lured into danger and end up imprisoned together. In their underwear.For Grimeyspice.
Relationships: Zoey Ashe/Will Blackwater
Comments: 24
Kudos: 7





	Midnight Exigent

**Author's Note:**

> Grimeyspice requested some stuck together mutual pining and I... tried my very best to oblige! Enjoy the trainwreck!
> 
> Takes place after FV&FS but before ZPtFitD.

“You have no idea how much I _hate_ you right now.” Zoey said, arms struggling uselessly behind her.

From across the dank room, Will fixed her with a flat glare. “I believe I have _some_ idea.”

Not liking the way Will was looking at her, Zoey ducked her head, using her hair as a curtain to hide her face. She craned her head back over her shoulder in an attempt to catch a glance at the plastic cuffs binding her wrists together. Zoey had found a rough patch of concrete with a jagged edge and had angled herself into an awkward position to use it as a makeshift saw.

Sweat poured down her face in fat rivulets, mixing with blood and dirt to leave behind sticky black streaks. When her neck started hurting from the strain, she looked forward once more, blindly drawing her arms up and down. She found Will still staring at her, most of his features hidden by the lack of light in the room.

“ _What_?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m just thinking of an old quote.”

Zoey snorted in disbelief. “’When a man plans, a woman laughs’?”

“You’re not laughing now... no, the one I was thinking of was ‘nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death’.”

If looks could kill, Will would have been a vaporized stain on the wall. “At least I’m _trying_ to do something, instead of just sitting there like the world’s dumbest Zen monk.”

“What exactly would be the point of expending my energy getting out of these restraints when there’s no visible way of escaping this room?”

Zoey actually paused at that, body going still as she considered the question. The room they’d been trapped in was four cavernous walls of solid concrete, with only a few cracks in the ceiling from the foundation shifting over time, those cracks their only source of light. It was only by sheer luck they were on the first day of the full moon, otherwise they’d be operating in pitch black.

The floor was concrete as well, half covered in the remnants of desert hardpan that had been churned up over time and disrepair. Zoey wasn’t even certain if they were above ground or if they’d been placed in an old bomb shelter some survivalist nut had dug into the earth over fifteen years ago when everyone had been convinced North Korea was going to nuke their asses.

Will was right, at current there was no discernable exit and unless they’d been decked out in Raiden tech, there would be no punching their way through the walls.

“Well, Mr. Negative Nancy,” Zoey said, resuming her frantic sawing, “at least with these cuffs off, I’d be able to feel my hands again and I don’t know about you, but I _like_ when I can feel my hands. And I could scratch this itch on my boob that has been bugging the hell out of me, so there’s that.”

Ah, yes, her boobs. Will pointedly didn’t her way when she mentioned them. Their abductors had conducted a strip search when they’d been taken, making sure they weren’t in possession of any weapons, listening devices, or GPS trackers, and hadn’t been kind enough to let them redress when they were done.

They’d been unceremoniously chucked into their barren prison in just their underwear. Neither of them felt the need to comment on that particular predicament, as it had been awful enough watching it all happen in real time.

“As long as you have goals, I suppose.” He said, still not looking at Zoey below the neck. Even in the dim light, he didn’t want to be rude.

“And you don’t? I would have been positive that by now, you’d have set several of them: escape, get to safety, call in reinforcements, find these assholes and shit down their throats…”

Unable to disagree, Will simply shrugged. “Something to that effect, yes, I have been thinking about it. But one thing at a time. Our first priority should be coming up with a plan when our kidnappers return.”

“Like getting ourselves out of these cuffs so we can kick their dicks in?”

Will found himself surprised at her forethought and was slightly chagrined at not having considered it. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose having full range of movement would be in our favor. I had been thinking more along the lines of anticipating their demands. They wouldn’t have kept us alive if they didn’t need us, which means they’re after something.”

“Don’t you think… _haha_!” Zoey felt the plastic cuffs finally give and she thrust her arms apart, groaning in relief as she worked out the kinks in her muscles. “Not such a waste of energy after all!” She clambered to her feet, right hand on her left boob as she scratched happily at her itch. “Come over here, I’ll guide you down so we can get yours off.”

Doing as he was bidden, Will curled his feet underneath him, needing the additional leverage to stand upright without his arms to balance his weight. He calmly walked over to Zoey, keeping his gaze firmly on her face. She reached out to him, placing her hands on his bare chest to carefully spin him around and help him kneel.

She grabbed the loop of plastic between his wrists and gently tugged him backward, finding the jagged concrete. As one, they began sawing, Will heaving his arms as Zoey watched, hands on his to keep him from slicing his skin open.

Will tried to keep his thoughts away from the fact that she had herself pressed up against his side, his arm slotted in her cleavage.

“So,” Zoey started casually as they worked, apparently blissfully unbothered by their closeness, “not that I don't appreciate the view, but I always figured you for a tighty-whitey man myself.”

Oh, goodie, they were going to talk about it.

Will exhaled an annoyed sigh. “They mess with the lines of my trousers. I prefer something more streamlined that won’t bunch up or cause creases.”

Zoey huffed in laughter. “How very fashion conscious of you. But I suppose it’s better this than finding out you wear speedos.”

“As if you can talk.” He said pointedly, turning to nod his head toward Zoey. “I’m surprised those can even be classified as underwear.” What was good for the goose was good for the gander, and if she was going to criticize his wardrobe, then he’d give just as good as he got. He wasn’t being petty, he was making it fair.

“Hey, we were supposed to be going to a party after our clandestine meeting and they matched my outfit. And why are you looking anyway, perv!”

“Why are _you_ looking at _me_?” He rejoindered. “Perv.”

“Hah, funny… you think you’re _so_ clever. At least you’re not as bad as those ass goblins.” She muttered, the playfulness gone from her tone.

Their kidnappers had ordered Will to undress, grabbing his clothes as he went to search them for hidden devices and had only given him a cursory patting down. Zoey had been held down while they’d done the stripping for her, ravenous eyes and gleeful hands taking their time pawing at her. She’d tried to fight them off, even getting in a solid kick to one of their faces and she’d rejoiced at the sickening sound of his nose breaking. It only ended up making things worse, however, Will shouting at them as they manhandled her.

Not that it did them any good. If they weren’t intimidated by the fact that they were kidnapping _the_ Will Blackwater, his murderous threats weren’t going to help them any. After that, they’d been cuffed and black-bagged before being driven to their current location.

“Trust me, everything they’ve done, and everything they’re _going_ to do, will be revisited on them tenfold when we get out of here.” Will said in a chilling tone.

“Assuming we get out of here.” Zoey muttered. “No one knows where we are and once they’ve gotten whatever it is they want, they’ve got no reason to keep us alive.”

“Nonsense. The team knew what we were walking into, so when we don’t return, they’ll come looking for us. No matter how well our abductors planned this out, no plan is without its flaws. They left a trail and all we have to do is wait for it to be followed.” The cuffs snapped in two and Will had to admit, being able to move his arms was a small mercy.

Zoey backed away to give him room to stand. “And just what kind of trail do you think they left? They purposefully had us come out to the desert alone at night, where there are no Blink cameras and no signs of civilization for miles around. Which means no digital footprint and no witnesses. They could be searching for days in the wrong direction.”

Will had known what kind of risks they were taking by agreeing to meet in the desert alone, no bodyguards and no backup, but it was the only way to get the other party to come to the table, and it was too lucrative a deal to pass up. That had been his first mistake, letting a business opportunity get in the way of his better judgement. Still, he had put safeguards in place just in case, and he was glad he had, otherwise they’d really be screwed.

“I wouldn’t have worked with Andre, Budd, and Echo for as long as I have if I didn’t have the utmost faith in their skills, so have a little faith yourself. And with Wu and Kowalski helping them, they’re sure to find us eventually. We just have to make sure to keep ourselves alive long enough for the cavalry to come in.” Will tapped Zoey’s arm. “Come over here so I can see your head.”

She let herself be led over to the thin band of moonlight in the room and stood very still as Will leaned in close to examine her. His hands cradled her head, fingers pushing her hair back to see the wound. Zoey was surprised by how gentle he was being, almost tender, only for that surprise to vanish when he found the cut. She hissed loudly and struggled against him.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh,” he breathed, squinting his eyes, “I’m not trying to hurt you, but I need to see how bad it is.”

The man whose nose she’d broken had retaliated by cracking Zoey’s head against the hood of a car. She’d crumpled to the dirt, moaning curses as they resumed stripping her down. Will had very special plans in store for that man and would enjoy every last drop of revenge for what he’d done to her.

“It’s just a head wound, aren’t they supposed to look worse than they are?” She asked, raising her hands to grip his forearms, squeezing him tightly as a means of mitigating the pain.

“In most cases, yes, but better safe than sorry.” In what meager light they had at their disposal, he was able to verify that yes, there was a gash just over her temple, but it had begun to clot, leaving a sticky patch in her hair. “I do believe you’re going to be okay.” Will patted her cheek and peered down into her eyes. “How do you feel otherwise?”

Zoey hummed noncommittally. “Like shit warmed over. My head is pounding, I’m sweating bullets but somehow, I’m also freezing, and I’m thirsty as hell. I don’t suppose you have any water stashed in those trendy little undies of yours.”

Will barked out an honest laugh. “I’ll contact the designer when we get back, make some suggestions. For now, we need to sleep. The adrenaline rush is going to wear off soon, leaving us exhausted. We won’t be able to stay on our toes if we’re too tired to think or act.”

“Sure, sleep, I could use a nap.” Zoey replied sarcastically.

“Trust me, it isn’t a joke. I’ve been in this kind of situation before. The human body isn’t equipped to be switched on at all times. If you force yourself into a state of panic and stay awake, the constant stress will fatigue your body and your mind. And we don’t want to make any mistakes, now do we?”

“Fine, whatever, you’re the expert. Which patch of dirt did you have your eye on?”

Will, suddenly painfully aware that they were still clutching at each other, swallowed thickly. “Actually, despite the walls, it’s going to get cold in here. Colder than it already is. We’re going to have to sleep together, to conserve body heat.”

A weak chuckle escaped Zoey’s lips. “Well, _that’s_ the most romantic way I’ve ever been propositioned. Maybe you should switch sides, join the ass goblins.” She let go of Will and pulled herself away from him, suddenly self-conscious.

“It’s not wh… I wasn’t _propositioning_ you.” Will said exasperatedly. “It’s a survival technique.”

“It’s awkward, is what it is.” Zoey crossed her arms over her chest, casting her gaze to the side as she shivered. “Didn’t even buy me dinner first, old man.”

That sure boosted his self-esteem.

Will side-stepped the comment and placed his hands on Zoey’s shoulders, bringing her eyes back to him. “Would you rather be alive and feel awkward, or be dead and comfortable?”

She sighed. “When you put it like that, do I really have any choice?”

“You _always_ have a choice, Zoey.” He said, in a tone that to anyone else would have sounded shallow and condescending, but to Zoey, who knew his vast catalogue of inflections, was oddly tender. “I just hope you choose wisely.”

Somewhat reassured, Zoey slowly nodded her head. “Fine. But you better not snore. There’s nothing I hate more than the sound of someone snoring.” It was like nails on a chalkboard. One of her mom’s old boyfriends used to snore so loud she could hear it from the other end of the trailer, preventing her from falling asleep. She had spent a semester in school walking around like a zombie from the sleep deprivation. It hadn’t been pretty.

“I won’t, as long as you don’t hog the covers.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smirking. “ _So_ clever.”

Will pointed to one corner that had more hardpan piled up, which would keep the cold of the poured concrete floor off their skin. He laid down first, settling himself in the dirt before motioning for Zoey to join him.

She felt trepidation at first, at the idea of being so intimately close to Will, but remembered there was no one else in the world she trusted so implicitly. Zoey joined him on the ground, moving almost mechanically to put her back to his chest. At first, she tried to keep herself a few inches away, as if trying to preserve some semblance of propriety, only for Will to sigh and physically drag her closer.

His arm circled around her waist, tugging her across the ground until they were fully slotted together. They spent a few silent minutes shifting around, Zoey lifting her head to tuck her hair down around her chin so Will wasn’t gagging on it, Will arranging himself so he was completely curled around her without smashing his groin into her ass. He splayed his hand over her stomach and tall as he was, had to rest his chin on the crown of her head.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured softly, “relax your muscles and empty your mind. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” It was like he was working through a mantra, going through well-practiced motions, for her benefit, not his. He already knew what to do.

He was right. As soon as Zoey closed her eyes, she felt exhaustion crash over her like a wave. The intensity of it almost surprised her, and it only took mere minutes for her to fall asleep to Will’s quiet, comforting voice.

* * *

**DAY ONE**

Zoey dreamed fitfully, her mind replaying the events of the previous day with terrifying hyperbole.

She idly picked at the hem of her poodle skirt, the ruffles all but enveloping her as she sat in the passenger seat of the car. Zoey hated some of the theme parties they had to attend in Tabula Ra$a, making appearances to gladhand and brown nose the other stunningly wealthy citizens, but Zoey had kind of been looking forward to this one. She loved the cut of the skirt and the feel of the lacy petticoat underneath. She’d spent ten minutes twirling around in front of the mirror while getting ready, hoping Will would like it.

The top was styled like a corset in the front, tight laces pushing up her boobs like a shelf and she’d thought to herself that someone might get lost in her cleavage if they dived in headfirst. She wore a little sleeved shirt underneath and Echo had joked that from the waist up she looked like a Bavarian bar wench.

It hadn’t been designed to look like typical lederhosen, though. The whole thing was black, including the ruffled petticoat, with white laces cinching her up the front and two white horned devil skulls with hearts for eyes adorning the skirt on either side. The undershirt was black, too, with little white lace cuffs. A dark twist on an iconic 50s style. The whole outfit had come with matching saddle shoes, but Zoey had tossed those out immediately and instead had chosen black shoes with chunky heels and little white bows on the front.

Will had fixed her with an odd stare when he caught her spinning around like a methed-out princess but she’d merely grinned up at him in response. It meant he'd liked it.

“Tell me why we agreed to this meeting again, when I could be at the party right now, drunk on expensive booze and getting hit on by gross old men?”

Will gripped the steering wheel. Since they had no idea where they were going, he had chosen to override the self-drive feature and do it the old-fashioned way. Lightning flashed outside the car windows. In reality, there hadn’t been a storm brewing overhead, Zoey’s sleeping mind was merely supplying her with ominous undertones.

“Because if they are truly in possession of what they claim to have, it’ll be well worth the risk.”

He had initially outright refused the meet, out in the middle of the Utah desert, miles away from the numerous security forces, Blink cameras, and cutting edge weaponry. Too many variables and not enough safeguards. Budd had been the one to convince him, vouching for these paramilitary black-marketeers who had reached out to them. They were a paranoid bunch but highly trained in acquiring the kinds of things governments and corporations tried to keep out of the public eye.

“I thought that Singh guy told Arthur he’d already smuggled out most of the original Raiden schematics, when the project was folded.”

“There’s a big difference between most and all. It could very well allow us to translate the scrambled plans inside Santa’s Workshop, it could be a goulash recipe. The only way to find out was to agree to their terms, and I’d rather we go through the motions than for them to get spooked and go find another buyer.”

Zoey sighed and slumped back in her seat. “Everything always has to be so covert with you people. Why can’t any of you agree to do business in broad daylight at a zoo or something. I wouldn’t mind going to the zoo…”

Will shrugged. “The people in our line of work operate like overly dramatic vampires. You learn to get used to it.”

She turned in the seat to fix Will with an assessing stare. “Admit it, you just didn’t want to be my date to the party and orchestrated this whole thing so you wouldn’t have to go. Could have just spared my feelings like a gentleman instead of orchestrating this elaborate charade.”

“I can understand why you think I’d want to forgo watching you get blackout drunk and drooled over by the billionaire senior citizens of the city, but no. It’s the perfect cover for us arriving late together after the meeting and if we don’t make our rendezvous, the team will know something went sideways.”

The instructions had been explicit. Both of them were to drive south out of Tabula Ra$a and if it was apparent they weren’t being followed, the suppliers would call to give them directions to the meeting place. That meant no drones, no tails, and no backup. At first, Zoey had adamantly agreed with Will when he turned down the offer, not wanting end up a sun-bleached skeleton out in the middle of nowhere.

Damn Budd for making the whole thing too good a deal to pass up when he'd told them the black-marketeers were selling Raiden schematics.

The Suits had agreed to follow them out of the city as far as they could and then wait in the van, monitoring their locations via their phones, ready to bring the pain if need be.

More lightning flashed outside the car, the desert landscape a graveyard.

“Well, you can’t blame me for thinking that, when I got all dressed up for you, and you look like it’s just another day at the office. Doesn’t exactly scream _party_.”

Will had shown up to the Casa in his usual tailor-made suit and matching fedora, no bells or whistles, just expensive Italian material and his trademark frown. That frown had mostly disappeared when he’d caught Zoey indulging in front of the mirror, but not entirely. He was stuck in danger mode, mind busy calculating every possible outcome of their meeting.

If only he had calculated harder.

They drove south for an hour, Zoey making idle chitchat to calm her nerves, while Will said very little, as per usual, before the call came in. They were off the grid and utterly alone. They were instructed to head west for about thirty minutes, until they passed a dilapidated old military sign, warning travelers about approaching restricted land. At the sign, they would turn south again, down a disused service road and keep going until they reached a dead end. When the call ended, their signals went dead. They were being jammed. Standard procedure for this type of thing, Will had reassured her.

Ten minutes later, he and Zoey stood outside the car in literal bumfuck nowhere, the headlights their only source of light. The sun had only just set but Zoey wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the cold as the desert air began to cool. A jacket hadn’t been a part of the outfit, though she was certainly wishing she had at least brought a wrap. 

After a minute or so, enough guilt had built up in Will for him to shuck off his suit jacket, moving behind her to place it over her shoulders.

Zoey hummed in thanks and pulled it close around her. It smelled like cologne and scotch, and the combination made her feel better. Whatever was about to happen, she was banking on Will’s fearsome reputation to keep them safe, the threat of even _looking_ at him askance sometimes enough to keep people in line.

Not Zoey. She stared at him in mock surprise. “Who knew you could be so chivalrous? What will our new friends think when they see you out of uniform?” She asked teasingly.

“They’ll see the gesture as a form of emotional weakness and underestimate me.” He replied.

That took the air out of Zoey’s sails. Of course, even a nice gesture had to be a calculated ploy for something else. Every time she thought she was pulling off his mask to get a peek at the human underneath, he always yanked it back up.

“Hmmm. Chivalry really is dead, then?” She asked petulantly.

His shadowed face regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Are you warm?” He asked.

Zoey nodded. “Never would have guessed that underneath your cold robotic exterior, you were actually a blast furnace.” She snuggled herself into his jacket to prove her point.

Will managed a tiny smile. “I-”

The sound of car engines cut through the air, the electric hum filling the air. Headlights broke over the horizon, a motorcade heading right for them.

Will cleared his throat, calmly straightened his tie and surreptitiously moved to place himself between Zoey and the cars. She was only there because she was the one who could ultimately sign off on the deal, _if_ the deal was made. Will was the mouthpiece, there to hammer out the details and inform her whether it was worth her time or money.

Four cars circled around them, kicking up dust as they came to a stop and parked, creating a ring of headlights. Doors opened and closed, and Zoey counted seven men, all in black fatigues climbing out to greet them. One of the cars stayed exactly where it was, no one exiting.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a crack of lightning illuminated the front seat of the car, revealing two grinning skeletons.

Zoey turned her head back to Will, who was taking stock of the men approaching them, noting the white earwigs clipped to their ears, two-way radios allowing them to communicate with someone, on an older frequency that would bypass the jammers.

They were all armed with real guns and assault rifles. There were no propellant cookers out in the desert. Zoey gulped but tried to keep a brave face, a bored socialite out to buy a brand-new toy.

A tall, bulky man who looked like he ate steroids out of a cereal bowl approached them. His dark hair was buzzed close to his skull, beady black eyes raking over Will, before sliding over to leer at Zoey.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to show up. Thought you’d be too chicken-shit to drag the princess out of her tower.” The man said blithely.

Will cocked his head to the side. “Your terms were clear. You weren’t going to wait for me to take your asking price back to my people to haggle, which would require my boss, Ms. Ashe, to be present, as only she can approve the release of funds for an off-book agreement. If what you have is genuine, the reward will have been greater than the risk to her safety.”

The group of men shared a chuckle, the bulky man shaking his head.

“I fail to see what you find so funny.”

The bulky man grinned sadistically at Will. “Just wondering how men like you ever managed to convince men like us to fight your cock-measuring wars. Hiding behind fancy words and the skirts of women who’ve domesticated you.” He pointed to Zoey and she flushed red, suddenly feeling ridiculously overdressed.

Will raised his eyebrows and took a step forward, to get their attention off Zoey and back on himself. “If you knew anything about me, which you should if you planned on doing business with myself and Ms. Ashe, you’d know I worked my fair share of wars, standing where you are right now. I just found it paid better to be on _this_ side of things. Now, if you’re done cock-measuring, as you say, I’d like to get down to business. My boss has a party she needs to attend and doesn’t enjoy having her time wasted.”

“Neither do we.” The bulky man waved a hand toward Will. The trunk of the car no one had climbed out of popped its trunk open. “Took a lot to get this out, so don’t balk at the asking price.”

Will cast a glance back at Zoey before following the man around to the back of the car. For a man who loved being the smartest one in the room, it had been a pretty goddamn stupid decision.

As soon as he was out of sight, a hand clamped around Zoey’s mouth. It was sweaty and smelled like a musty old cigar. She gagged and, in a panic, tried to scream, but the barrel of a gun was placed to her head, silencing her. A foot kicked sharply at the back of her knees. Zoey flopped to the ground with a muffled grunt. Once she was down, they gagged her with a rag that smelled worse than the guy’s hand, tied her wrists together and dragged her toward the back of one of their cars. Will’s suit jacket fluttered off in the wind.

Will never heard anything.

The men dumped her into the trunk, avoiding her swinging legs, and quietly latched it shut, so as not to alert Will. Zoey tried to get her bearings, but it was difficult in the dark. She could only feel the rough interior of the trunk and without her hands free, she wouldn’t be able to activate the safety lock that prevented people from getting trapped in trunks.

From outside, she heard one of the men mutter into his earpiece that they had her. Seconds later, there was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a single shot that rang through the air, echoingly loudly in Zoey’s ears.

She shouted against her gag. They had killed Will. Gunned him down in cold blood just to get at her.

The car she was in shook as the occupants got in. The engine started and they peeled off into the night. They drove from some time, Zoey crying the whole way to wherever they were taking her. She cried for her predicament, she cried for being so foolish, and most of all, she cried for Will. She sobbed herself hoarse, thinking about she’d stupidly agreed to go along with what was obviously (in hindsight) a trap, just because she wanted to impress Will with her courage.

He and the Suits were always putting themselves in harm’s way, while little Zoey stayed behind, safe in her fortress walls. Granted, when men like Molech came knocking, she was glad for those walls, but Zoey was tired of being treated delicately all the time. She wanted Will to respect her, to trust her the way she trusted him, to…

Zoey squeezed her eyes shut, tears coursing down her cheeks.

When they finally stopped, Zoey decided that being tied up and gagged wasn’t going to stop, and when they pulled her out of the trunk, she’d come out like a rabid animal and headbutt them to death. No one would say that she didn’t going out swinging.

Headbutting, whatever.

Her plan went up in smoke when the trunk opened to reveal three guns pointed right at her. They must have read her thoughts and decided to counter it by threatening to headbutt her with bullets. Zoey meeped quietly and when they instructed her to get out of the trunk, she readily complied.

Frog marched around the front end, she found they were still in the desert, maybe miles away from where they’d started, maybe a hundred yards, Zoey couldn’t tell. Another car was parked in front of them, headlights creating a crossbeam and she saw Will standing there with three guards of his own.

“Will!” She screamed against her gag and broke away to run toward him. She slammed into him, amazed that he wasn’t dead, but she got about five seconds of contact before a hand grabbed her by the hair, forcing her back.

Will just stood there, glancing around at everyone as if he were scanning a grocery shelf for diarrhea medication. Zoey knew that look. It wasn’t disdain, it was murderous intent. He was committing their faces to memory, so when the tables turned, he’d know whose throat to go for first. His frost blue eyes flicked over to Zoey.

“Ms. Ashe, I would comply with their demands. Every breath we take is just one breath that gets us closer to being out of this situation.” His tone was casual, but he’d meant it as a threat. _We’ll comply, until we won’t. Then you’re fucked_.

Zoey nodded emphatically, looking to their captors so they’d see she’d listen. One of his three guards pushed him roughly, clearly not liking being threatened and brought his rifle to bear.

“Empty your pockets and throw the contents on the ground.” He demanded.

Will did just that, hands going into his pockets. He pulled out two different phones but paused when he didn’t find the keys to the BMW they’d driven out in. He mulled over their absence. “I assume they’ll find our car in a ditch somewhere, perhaps set on fire with the corpse of your unfortunate friend inside. An accident gone wrong?”

Zoey squinted her eyes at him. Unfortunate friend. She was slow on the uptake but it did come to her. There had been seven guards initially, now there were only six. The gunshot must have been Will attempting to fight them off.

Heh. Good for Will.

“You don’t shut your mouth, you’ll be joining him, creep.”

Will arched a brow but said nothing. He threw his things down into the dirt and held up his hands. “That’s everything I have on me.” Zoey thought of his wallet, tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket, now abandoned somewhere in the desert. Some snake was about to become very rich.

The man smirked. “Nice try, smartass. I was told not to trust anything you say. Now take off your clothes.”

This seemed to surprise Will, apparently having not counted on their paranoia to carry them this far, but nonetheless, he toed his shoes off. His face took on the expression of immutable stone as he methodically undressed himself. Shoes and socks first, followed by his button-down shirt, tie, and undershirt. One by one, their captors took everything he handed them, feeling them down for hidden devices. Not trusting the cufflinks, they tossed them to the ground and smashed them with their boots.

Will’s eyes hardened but he kept going. Belt and trousers next, until he was standing there in the cold desert night in just his underwear.

Zoey would have giggled at the sight of him, if she hadn’t absolutely terrified at the prospect of her turn coming up. Will was now clad in only a chic little pair of boxer briefs that cut low across his hips, the leg openings barely covering his thighs. There wasn’t much actual cloth that protected his modesty, not that he’d had any left at that point.

Will glanced around at the men with their guns pointed at him. “This will have to do, seeing as there is a lady present.”

“Don’t really wanna see your pecker anyway.” Said one, who came forward to pat Will down, making sure he didn’t have anything stuffed down his skimpy briefs. After a second, he straightened. “He’s clean.”

“All right, secure him.” The man who had searched Will’s clothes secured his wrists with a pair of plastic cuffs. Once they were certain Will was contained, all eyes turned to Zoey.

“She’s next.”

Cruel chuckles ringed around her and Zoey’s eyes widened. She looked to Will, whose carefully constructed expression had faltered, which said everything she needed to know. As much as he wanted to stop them, to cave their skulls in and leave their bodies hanging over the freeway that led into Tabula Ra$a as a warning to others, he couldn’t. Any heroic attempts would get one or both of them killed, and he refused to take that chance.

Zoey struggled against their hold when she realized what was about to happen, trying to escape, but there were too many of them. They carelessly ripped the fabric of the skirt, cursing at her when they had to fight against the frilly layers of the petticoat. There was so much of it that when she saw they were distracted, she found herself in possession of more balls than Will had stuffed down his ridiculously tiny briefs and kicked a leg out violently. Her chunky heel found purchase on the face of the man tearing at her clothes.

The cartilage snapped with a satisfying sound, blood gushing down his face. He backed away quickly, shouting and holding his face. Zoey crowed victoriously around her gag. It was short lived, however, when he came at her viciously, threading his hand in her hair to yank her backwards, her head slamming into the hood of the car. Zoey saw stars as she collapsed to the dirt.

She didn’t pass out, unfortunately.

“You’re gonna pay for that, bitch!”

Their hands were on her once more, hauling her back up and her vision lurched with the sudden movement. The tip of a knife pressed against her chest as they sawed off the laces of her corset, yanking it and the undershirt away. The skirt was a sad, distant memory as they hooted and hollered at her, groping every inch of revealed skin as they patted her down.

Her strapless bra barely covered her breasts, so she’d have more bosom popping out over the top of the corset, and calloused hands felt around for anything she might have hidden down there. The panties were the same, meager in what coverage they provided, and their disgusting fingers checked her back and front, with painfully slow motions. They must have been really worried she had a weapon, because they all took turns searching her.

Needing some sort of lifeline to keep her afloat, Zoey never took her eyes off Will as he shouted at them to stop, listing off graphic, gory details about what he’d do to their hands once they’d been torn from their wrists. His face burned with white hot anger, utter helplessness as his threats fell on deaf ears, and…

She awoke with a start, gasping heavily.

“It’s okay, you're okay, I’ve got you.” Will said, peering at her with his piercing blue eyes.

Oh. She must have rolled over at some point during the night. Well, this was embarrassing.

He was still wrapped around her, legs tangled up in hers, her boobs squished up against his chest. She could feel his groin pressing into her thigh. One arm was tucked between them, her fingers on his stomach, the other arm looped around his back, hand clutching at his shoulder desperately from the force of her dream.

Zoey’s cheeks burned red as she tried to recover from the discovery of their closeness. She didn't pull away, though, not when his skin was radiating a ridiculous amount of warmth. It was surprisingly cozy.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, closing her eyes as if doing so would keep him from seeing her, “bad dream.”

“I know. If you hadn’t woken up yourself, I was going to do it for you.” Will had wicked morning breath, but Zoey wasn’t going to say anything, as she was sure hers wasn’t any better. She could feel the fuzz on her teeth, tongue going to the spot where her missing canine should have been.

“I was dreaming about last night…” A detail popped out and she opened her eyes to look at Will. “There were four cars, but those ass goblins, they were driving the other three. Someone was in that fourth car, someone we didn't see.”

Will hummed. “I was thinking about that.” Zoey didn’t even want to ask how long he’d been awake, watching her sleep. “One of the guards mentioned he was instructed not to trust me… whomever that person was, they orchestrated this whole thing and knew enough about us to make them dangerous. Baited us with the missing Raiden schematics, forced our hand in meeting them without protection…” His musings trailed off for a brief moment. “But as I said before, they need us alive, so we just have to be careful. No more donkey kicking them, okay?”

Zoey snorted. “I dunno, I kinda enjoyed it. For about five seconds…” She thought of those hands again and shuddered. “Will?” She asked, fingers sliding over his shoulder blade in gentle circles. He was so very close. She’d never been this close to him before and she thought she could see behind his mask.

“Yes?” He breathed.

“… I have to pee.”

“Oh.”

He lifted his head up off the ground to look around the room. “The opposite corner. We should dig a makeshift latrine, so we won’t have to worry about… rolling around like pigs in slop.”

“Well, that just took the romance right out of the air.” She quipped, pulling herself away from Will to stand up. Zoey knew the comment wasn’t directed at her specifically, and certainly with no malicious intent, but she hated being compared to pigs or cows, or any other fat animal her bullies liked to tease her about. Getting to her feet, she immediately tried to cover herself.

It was daylight and through the cracks, beams of sunlight shone through, illuminating the room. There was no pretending they weren’t stuck together in just their underwear now, not when everything was visible.

Will stood up, unconcerned with his state of undress, though he politely didn’t look at Zoey anywhere below her neck. “Still no sign of a door.” He said, glancing around. “Whatever this building was previously used for, they must have repurposed it just to hold us, if there isn't any way out.”

The wheels turned painfully slow in Zoey’s head. “Which means… they’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Not just that. Searching us, getting rid of the car, getting us off the grid, whatever they want from us, it’s going to take time to acquire. They’re playing a long game and they intend to keep us here until they get what they want.” He walked over to the corner he had indicated and knelt.

Zoey joined him and together, they started digging a hole in the dirt. It didn’t require two people, but Zoey needed a task to keep her mind busy, so she didn’t devolve into a neurotic ball of stress and panic. It didn’t take long to hit the cement floor and though he would have preferred something deeper, it would just have to do. He stood up and motioned to it.

“After you.” He then padded back over to the other side of the room without needing to be asked, back turned to give Zoey her privacy. It was difficult to squat over the hole with her underwear around her ankles, but after some struggling, she let out a sigh of relief as she emptied her bladder. Like an idiot, when she was done, she looked around for toilet paper. Force of habit. She ended up having to wiggle her ass to drip dry before she was comfortable enough to pull her underwear back up.

She had a sinking feeling that it was going to get real gross in their little prison real quick.

Zoey headed back over to Will. “Your turn.” She said quietly. Zoey kept her eyes on the concrete wall as Will did his business. She had wanted to get to know him better, the _real_ him, and goddamn, were they getting to know each other intimately. The stream stopped and she heard him mumble as he readjusted himself, so she figured it was safe to turn around.

They regarded each other for a moment.

“I don’t suppose Wu ever went over anti-interrogation tactics with you.” He asked, needing to fill the silence.

“Uh… don’t agree to anything, stall as long as possible, keep them talking. Oh, and don’t insult their mothers or the size of their penis, no matter how much I want to.”

He blinked at her. “That’s what you’re supposed to do if you’re taken hostage. Interrogation is something else entirely. If they're after information or need you specifically for something, the way Arthur needed you to open his vault, there are various techniques to use to combat the methods they might use. Noise torture, sleep deprivation, water-boarding-”

“Extreme boredom? This place is solid concrete, but I don’t hear people walking around, no cars, no chatter, nothing. Which means there’s no security detail prowling around out there. They left us completely alone all night, in a room with no exits, no water, no food. I think they’re trying to bore us to death. Maybe it’s a revenge thing… who did you piss off this time?”

Will arched a brow at the implication of their current predicament and then shook his head. “It’s a tactic, like throwing an unruly prisoner into solitary confinement. You go stir-crazy, desperate for someone else other than yourself to talk to, so when they come waltzing through the door, you’ll do whatever they ask just because it’s a form of human contact.”

“But… we’re not alone. We’re together.”

“Another tactic. Or they just didn’t have another one of these places lying around. Either way, by forcing us to try surviving this together, they expect that we’ll bond, so when they threaten to kill one of us, we’ll be more inclined to give in to their demands.”

Zoey’s stomach growled, the noise echoing off the walls. “Or they’re secretly recording this to see how long it takes before we resort to cannibalism. Maybe they think I’ll get to the point where the only bonding I want to do with you would involve a tube of superglue and a rabid hamster, all so they can watch me strangle you and suck the marrow from your bones. Definitely sounds like a revenge thing.”

“It won’t come to that,” Will said with an unexpected laugh, “trust me. They’re going to let us stew for a little while longer, then come in with food and water they’ll use as leverage. We’ll be fine."

*~*~*

The sun began to wane overhead, casting the room in shadows, and Will started to rethink his words. He’d expected their captors to show up at some point, demanding ransom in some form or fashion, but they hadn’t come yet, much to his chagrin. A long game, indeed. With nighttime approaching, they were either going to wait for them to fall asleep to try sleep deprivation tactics, or as Zoey had figured, they were going to force them into near starvation to make them more pliable.

He honestly thought the former sounded better. And he didn’t want to admit Zoey had been right. He glanced over at her. In the heat of the day, the concrete walls baking in the sun, she had starfished out on a bare patch of cement flooring, trying to keep cool as the two of them alternated between extended stretches of silence and idle conversation.

Will was doing his best not to stare at her.

It was obvious that despite all her attempts to get to know him, she was still uncomfortable being half-naked in front of him, and he’d tried his best to protect her modesty by keeping his eyes off her. Easier said than done. All that young, supple skin laid bare… he was flesh and blood, after all, and it was hard to control his baser urges while confined in such close quarters.

It had taken a long time to come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Arthur’s daughter. Arthur had been like a father to him, taking him under his wing, together wielding almost god-like control over a massive empire… Zoey should have been like a sister, but everything that Arthur was, everything _he_ was, she wasn’t. She was certainly brash and headstrong like her father, but whereas Arthur valued patience and planning, Zoey preferred action, the more outrageous the better.

Like when she’d kicked one of their abductors in the face as he tried to strip search her. She could have just gone along like he’d instructed her to, let them have their fun at her expense and have it all be over with quickly, but no, she’d needed to lash out, to make her displeasure known to the world, no matter the consequences.

After everything she’d been through, having a circle of men trying to get their jollies off on her must have dredged up bad memories, of her stepfather, of Molech and his merry band of evil superhumans. Of course she wasn’t going to just sit back and take it. Not that he blamed her for trying. It had been unbearable just to watch, Will could only imagine how awful it must have been to experience it firsthand. He clenched his fists at the memory of how Zoey had stared at him throughout, seeking out some kind of relief from their horrid actions. He was going savor paying each and every last one of them back.

Despite his reserved demeanor, Will found that he enjoyed all of Zoey’s flaws (her unpredictability, her refusal to abide by the norms of the city Arthur had built so she could blaze her own trail, and the uncouth attitude she brought to every situation), no matter how much he pretended to be annoyed by them.

And unlike most people, Zoey went out of her way to aggravate him at every possible turn. She didn’t care at all that he was one of the most feared men in Tabula Ra$a. Oh, she’d certainly been afraid of him when they’d first met, but that fear had quickly morphed into ridicule. Zoey now lived to undercut him, to loudly point out to everyone that he was just a massive geek with delusions of grandeur and an obsessive need to overcompensate for everything.

His wife had been the same. She hadn’t cared that people would cross the street to avoid him, she still sent him angry messages reminding him to pick up butter on his way home.

His physical attraction to Zoey went back much further than Arthur, however. All the way back to his own father, and his obsessive need to control every aspect of his son’s life. His clothes, his words, his attitude, his love life. Zoey reminded Will so much of the girl he’d brought home to meet his father, the one he’d sent running out the door crying after accusing her of being too fat. She hadn’t been, but compared to his string-bean frame, his father adamantly disapproved of the pair they made, demanding he find someone better, someone who would complement his physique.

His disapproval only served to make girls like Zoey forbidden fruit, a desire to be kept locked away from the prying eyes of his controlling father. The next girl had been much thinner, more suitable to his father’s liking, and Will had learned to play along, whether he liked it or not. Not that he didn’t love his wife, because he did, fiercely. She was beautiful and loving, sweet in ways that softened his hardened edges, and unforgiving against indulging his worst habits. He missed her dearly, but after so many years, his eyes and heart started wandering, and they’d eventually wandered toward Zoey.

For all Zoey had lamented her glaring physical flaws, Will found them endlessly appealing. He knew it was wrong on some level, being attracted to a girl much younger when he was nearing the wrong end of his thirties, but when had attraction ever operated within the bounds of common decency? He could name several politicians and captains of industry off the top of his head who had married younger trophy wives or kept a stable of nubile mistresses on hand for whenever the mood struck, the gaps between their years wider than his age to Zoey’s.

It still felt wrong to him somehow, so he kept his desires to himself, even as Zoey tried to befriend him, playfully teasing him to get him to open up to her as more than just her right-hand man. He'd rebuffed the advances in the past but it had been hard to keep up pretenses night before with Zoey lying in his arms, leeching his warmth, muttering into his chest as she dreamed. He’d stared at her for longer than was healthy, eyes tracing the lines of her mouth and jaw, relishing the way she clutched at him against the chill of the night.

If he’d been a lesser man…

Will cut off that line of thought before it gave birth to other thoughts. Best to focus his attentions of figuring out how they were going to survive. He had no doubt Budd, Echo, and Andre had started up a manhunt, but with every means of tracking them gone (even the trackers in his cufflinks), it was down to him and Zoey to come up with a way to escape and get to civilization.

They had scanned every inch of the room earlier, looking for weak points in the foundation but had come up empty-handed. However their abductors had gotten them into the room, there was no sign of it left. The ceiling was too high to be reached, not that the smooth walls gave them any improvised hand or footholds even if it had been within reach. They were well and truly at the mercy of their kidnappers.

At some point, Zoey had given up and flattened herself on the floor to sweat out the day while Will pondered on their predicament.

From out of nowhere came, “I’m thinking barbeque.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Do you really think it’s prudent to talk about food?”

Zoey lifted her head up to glare at him. “I’m not talking about food, dummy, I’m talking about how we’re gonna massacre these ass goblins. I’m thinking barbeque. Build a big fire pit, set up one of those giant rolling spits and tie them all to it, so we can cook ‘em like a big rotisserie chicken.”

He paused to think about the mental picture she had just painted for him. “That’s not bad, actually. But I was planning on something more esoteric. Medieval.”

Rolling onto her side, Zoey sat up, crossing first her legs, then her arms over her belly and thighs before looking at him curiously. “Do I even want to know, or do you _want_ me to have more nightmares?”

“Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” Gleeful visions danced in his head, but he didn’t want to frighten Zoey any more than she already was.

Going by the look in Will’s eyes alone, Zoey’s mind filled in the rest and she was certain whatever she came up with paled in comparison to what Will was conjuring up. “Yup, definitely don’t want to know. This is of course assuming Wu or Echo don’t get to them first. Or Andre. I’d place even money he could crush their heads in with just his bare hands.”

Will didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was _completely_ within the realm of possibility. He could personally vouch for all the lethal things Andre was capable of with those massive hands.

“Can’t let him have all the fun, can we?”

Zoey opened her mouth, paused, and then started again. “You don’t really enjoy all this, do you?” She asked softly. “The torture and death, the never-ending pissing contests?”

The question took Will aback. Did she honestly think that of him, that he reveled in bloodshed and chaos like a madman? “You should know me better than that by now. There’s a reason I don’t carry weapons on me, why none of us do. Violence just begets more violence. It’s why everyone assumed the Russian gangsters who killed Molech’s father had killed Molech, to avoid him coming after them seeking revenge.”

“Fat lot of good that did them.” Zoey muttered sarcastically.

“You like to make fun of me because I enjoy being the smartest person in the room, that I hoard facts and figures to whip them out like an eager nerd to impress people, but in reality, that’s my greatest weapon. I can outmaneuver the violent tendencies of those around me without bloodshed because that’s my goal. Your father had a knack for getting people to do what he wanted without firing a single shot, because he believed that people were worth more alive than dead, even his competitors. And I followed his example. We can’t build something up if we’re constantly destroying everything.”

Zoey’s lips turned up in a tiny smile. “So, you’re saying… beneath that ice-cold exterior, you’re an optimist at heart?”

Will didn’t confirm or deny it. “The only thing that keeps order is the impression that you’ll do whatever is necessary to achieve your goals. It’s how governments and religions are able to keep a stranglehold on everyone, the belief that they’d be burned at the stake or thrown in a gulag. Neither mine nor your father’s hands are clean of blood, but it was generally a last resort, when all other avenues had been exhausted. And we made certain when it came to that, we were brutally efficient in making an example of those that crossed us. All the smarts and logic in the world won’t hold up if you can’t make people _fear_ what could happen if they can’t reach some sort of compromise. I believe the expression is ‘speak softly and carry a big stick’.”

Zoey collapsed in a fit of giggles. It sounded nice, in the dankness of their prison.

“What?” He asked exasperatedly. “I thought you, of all people, would agree.”

“No, it’s not that!” She said around gasping breaths. “It’s just you- haha! You speak softly _and_ have a big stick!”

Will folded his hands over his groin, feeling his skin flush red. He was starting to regret his choice of undergarments. Tre had convinced him to upgrade from basic boxer briefs to these new, more risqué styled ones. They didn’t ride up as much, or bunch up after constantly sitting and standing, but with their skimpy cut they were beyond inappropriate for a man his age.

“Perv.” He replied flatly, glad that the room had started to darken as the sun set.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” Zoey laughed spastically. “I think I’m starting to lose my mind!”

It had now been a full day they’d been trapped in the room. Neither of them had eaten before the meeting, agreeing to grab something on the way back into town, as the party would only be serving finger foods. Nearly thirty-six hours without food or water in a room that had been like a sweatbox in the midday sun and an icebox at night. Will was accustomed to scenarios such as these. Zoey wasn’t.

Glancing behind him, Will shifted on the ground, scooting into the corner that had been designated as their sleeping quarters, opposite the corner they had designated the pee corner.

He propped himself up in the corner, the cooling concrete on either side of him, legs stretched out in front of him. “Come here.” He said to Zoey, beckoning to her with a hand.

The giggling subsided. “Uh…”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a perverted trick, I’m going to show you a meditation technique, before you go crazy and hurt yourself. You're dehydrated from sweating and shivering at night overworks your muscles. Your system has been overtaxed and I need to calm you down.” He waved his hand at her again.

"Because telling a woman to calm down _always_ works out so well." She muttered as she slowly crawled over to him, spinning around to settle between his legs.

His arms went up guide her until her back was slotted against his chest. “Good, now, close your eyes and go completely limp. Yes, that’s good. Do you feel that?”

“Your stick digging into my butt? Yeah, I can feel it. You still haven't bought me dinner yet.”

Will groaned loudly, dropping his head back into the corner. This was supposed to calm her down, not aggravate his last nerve. “ _No_ , can you feel my heart beating against your back?”

“Uh… actually, yeah. It’s soft but it’s there.”

Will felt her press herself closer, searching out the faint thump of his heart. “Good. You’re going to focus on getting your heartbeat to match mine. You’ll need to relax completely to slow your breathing down. You’ll stop burning as much energy and it’ll help slow the effects of dehydration and hunger.” It wouldn’t save them, not by a long shot, it would only delay the inevitable. But it would stop Zoey from panicking and from overexerting herself.

Win-win.

Not for Will’s poor libido, but that wasn’t the most important thing they had to contend with. He slowly led Zoey through a few breathing exercises, sliding his hands up and down her arms in a soothing gesture, until he felt their heartrates synchronize. “That’s good, you’re doing great. When you feel yourself stressing out, just remember to control your breathing.”

She let out a soft breath, head tipping forward slightly. She had fallen asleep.

Will rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of her or try to wake her up, instead gently whispering into her ear as she snoozed.

* * *

**DAY TWO**

Zoey dreamed of a conference she and the Suits had been in several weeks before. It hadn’t been a particularly important meeting, and they’d ended it casually shooting the breeze, discussing plans for the weekend.

She had perched herself on the table, legs dangling back and forth as she listened to Andre discuss in vivid detail the two ladies he would escorting around town, down to which one had a certain scandalous tattoo on an even more scandalous part of their anatomy. Budd and Echo joined her in laughing at his lecherous nature, unable to comprehend the kinds of women Andre attracted.

Zoey turned her head to find Will in his chair, drink in hand, an amused look on his face. She smiled at him.

Everyone eventually left, heading toward their evening plans, leaving Zoey and Will alone. Her dream supplied her with soft string music in the background as Will stood up and walked around the table to stand in front of her. She stopped moving her legs, so she wouldn’t kick Will in the shins by accident.

“What about you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dweeby? Any big plans for the weekend?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Not unless you count rearranging my tie rack and making my liver hate me.”

Zoey laughed in his face. “That’s what you did _last_ weekend, you old fuddy-duddy.”

“No, last weekend I reorganized my sock drawer. Big difference.”

She rolled her eyes. “You should come over, watch a movie with me or something. That big private theater Arthur built is just going to waste, and I figured we could watch a few basketball games or something. I know you’ve been dying for me to watch the _Lord of the Rings_ , so I’ll understand your stupid references.”

Will regarded her thoughtfully. “I know for a fact you’ve been invited to several raves, cocktail parties, and charity events. Won’t you be too busy drinking free champagne and corrupting some poor young choir boy you manage to get your claws on to entertain me?”

She blew a raspberry. “I don’t feel like putting on pants this weekend. I just wanna curl up with Stench Machine and destroy my brain cells with bad TV.”

“ _Lord of the Rings_ is _not_ bad TV.” He replied seriously.

Zoey responded with a grin. “So that means you’ll come?” She asked, voice tinged with excitement.

Will took a step forward, and even with her sitting on the table, he was still taller than her. He peered down at Zoey. “Do you promise to wear pants?” He asked cagily.

Zoey sucked in a breath at the strange note to his voice, and she suddenly realized how close he was to her. Was this really happening? Were they… flirting? _No_... Why would a man like him ever be interested in a girl like her? “Depends." Zoey asked, deciding to take a chance and dip a toe in to test the waters. Maybe the mask was about to come off completely. "Does underwear count as pants in your book, or will you tell me I at least have to have on pajama bottoms?"

“Hmmm.” He furrowed his brow, considering. “The ones with the pirate kittens or the skulls wearing sombreros?”

“Which ones do you prefer?” Zoey asked playfully.

The soft music stopped, replaced by the horrific rip of a needle skipping across an old record player as Carlton walked into the conference room.

Zoey opened her eyes, only this time, Will was still sleeping. Sunlight poured in around them. They were facing each other again, legs intertwined, her arms tucked between them, his hands clasped over hers on his chest. She stared at his face, softened in slumber, and had a hard time reconciling what she was seeing with the normal, no-nonsense Will she’d grown accustomed to.

His warm breaths ghosted over her face. His morning breath had transformed into straight garbage and Zoey turned her head carefully, so as not to wake him, but so that she was no longer directly in the line of fire. She glanced down at his pale body, long, lean limbs covered in dirt, making him seem even whiter than he actually was, and he clung to her as if his life depended on it.

He looked vulnerable.

His butt squeaked out a quiet little fart and Zoey bit her lip to keep from laughing. He had never been more human in her eyes, the mask completely gone.

She wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if Carlton hadn't interrupted them. In that moment, she thought she was finally getting to see the real Will, the one who could be so considerate toward her (in his own special robot way) but in the days after their little back and forth, after he'd not shown up that weekend to hang out with her, she'd gotten the sense that he was doing his best to avoid her. Zoey figured it had always been that way between them, like an elaborate dance, going from fearing him to mocking him, to respecting him while mocking him, to...

Metal thumping against metal sounded from outside the concrete walls, cutting off Zoey's thoughts. There was more thumping, like a small, coordinated symphony. She realized they were car doors. Someone was outside their prison, and it probably wasn’t the good guys.

“Will, Will!” She said, shaking him as hard as she could. It didn’t take long for his eyes to fly open.

The vulnerability vanished.

“What is it, what happened?” He asked, shaking off the dredges of sleep. He gave her a once over, making sure she wasn’t hurt.

“I heard car doors! Someone’s here!”

Her panic woke him completely and Will deftly unwound himself from Zoey so he could stand up. “From which direction?”

She pointed to the adjacent wall, where their feet had been facing. The thumping had stopped but Zoey knew she hadn’t just been hearing things.

Will turned to face the wall, scanning it slowly. The cars had driven up to the building from a road that lay in that direction, the direction they’d need to run in if they managed to escape. “How many?”

Zoey closed her eyes, trying to recall. “Uh, eight? Maybe nine? I might have missed one when I was trying to wake you up.”

He nodded once. “So, the one in charge, maybe an assistant, and the six guards. They’ll all be armed with guns, but if they’re going to keep us alive, they’ll use knives or stun batons.” He spun on his heel to look at Zoey. “I cannot stress enough how much I need you to let _me_ do the talking. I need them to keep their focus on me, not on the lone woman in the room. They may try to use you against me, and it may sound like I don’t value your life, but understand that everything I’m going to say will be in the interest of getting us both out of here, not in the interest of protecting your feelings.”

It was a tactic she was unfortunately familiar with, making whoever he was dealing with believe his employer and associates meant next to nothing to him, to make them less of a target. She’d spent a night sobbing in her bathtub after one memorable meeting with shareholders that apparently worked for her, in which Will implied that he agreed with certain comments they’d made about her being next to useless, and that it was a shame she at least didn’t have a prettier face for them to look at while the _men_ handled the business.

The next day, when she’d given him shit about it, he’d calmly explained that they never would have dealt with her seriously even if she’d possessed a college degree and a ball-buster attitude, and the only way to keep the wheels moving was to make them believe he was on their side, another victim of Arthur’s inability to use protection. They already trusted him and if they thought he was in control, they wouldn’t start looking elsewhere to stash their money. They were idiots for their misogynistic views, but he’d played into it to protect her interests.

It hadn’t made her feel much better but at least she knew then Will didn’t hate her guts, and the dance continued.

“Sooo… only _pretend_ to cry instead of _actually_ cry when you throw me under the bus?”

Will, the son of a bitch, paused to think on the merits of the question and Zoey punched him in the arm. It didn’t even phase him.

The building started to rumble around them, dirt cascading down from the cracks in the ceiling above. Zoey ducked her head, raising her arms to shield her eyes. Will grabbed her by the shoulders and they moved away from the cracks.

A buzzing noise filled the air and a section of the wall _disappeared_. It wasn’t a hologram, a man-sized section of wall about a foot thick was pulled back and away, a shaft of sunlight streaming in. Will immediately placed himself between Zoey and the opening as several voices filled the air.

In walked the group of men from their desert meeting, along with a new face. They all were big and bulky, more muscles than brains, each of them heavily armed. The new guy was a tall, thin black man armed with nothing but a hateful expression. The man Zoey had kicked now had a thick bandage over his nose, both eyes ringed black and blue.

The man with the buzz cut came in last, his gaze assessing the room. “Get them apart and secure them.” He said with a casual flick of his wrist.

On command, Zoey and Will were roughly dragged away from each other, leaving a wide gap between them, enough so the men didn’t have to worry about one leaping to the other’s defense. They were forced onto their knees, guns pointed at their heads.

Once they were in position, Buzz Cut turned to shout out of the hole in the wall. “You’re clear!”

A shadow blocked out the sunlight and Zoey heard Will suck in a breath.

“My god…”

The man who walked in didn’t seem like the kind of man Will Blackwater would associate with. Zoey thought he might have been attractive at one point, maybe with a silver fox thing going on, but those days had passed him by long ago. His hair was the gray of dirty dishwater, oiled and slicked back to hide what Zoey thought was a crappy haircut. He wore a suit that perhaps fit him like a glove a decade ago, but after some uncontrolled weight gain, it was now a size or three too small. To Zoey, he looked like a man who was well past his prime but refused to admit it, like the sad, washed up high school quarterbacks who frequented the bars in Fort Drayton still wearing their old letterman jackets, armed with stories about ‘the good old days’.

The only thing dangerous about this man was his eyes, dark, intelligent, and cruel. His eyes and, of course, the ass goblins who were working for him. Zoey was really regretting her decision to watch Will sleep instead of getting up to pee.

“Will, Will, Will…” He chided in a surprisingly deep voice. “I wish I could say it didn’t have to come to this, but alas. You reap what you sow.”

“You know this asshole casserole?” Zoey hissed at Will.

He nodded slowly, gaze never leaving the man. It explained why the guard knew to smash his cufflinks, after having been warned not to believe a word he said. “I did, once. Zoey Ashe, allow me to introduce you to Logan Knight.”

She furrowed her brow, something lighting up in her brain. “I know that name… why do I know that name?” She glanced back and forth between them.

“He used to work for your father and was a chairman at Livingston Enterprises. He was our… international man.”

She blinked in recognition. Logan Knight had formerly been a Suit. Her first night in Tabula Ra$a, Zoey had done her research on the people she’d been convinced were going to kill her, but he’d only been a blurb, and afterthought, because Arthur had made him into a ghost.

Metaphorically, it seemed, not literally.

“Oh, I was much more than that, Ms. Ashe.” Logan said, puffing his chest out. “Your father wouldn’t have had a pot to piss in if it hadn’t been for my ability to get his products from one place to another in a timely, well-ordered fashion. I knew every harbor master, bush pilot, and customs agent in a dozen countries, and used those contacts to get your father and his clients everything they desired. Girls, guns, drugs, you name it. Supply and demand. Your father had the demand, I provided the supply. It was a mutually beneficial partnership. Until it _wasn’t_.” His eyes narrowed at Zoey.

“You did it to yourself.” Will cut in, trying to get Logan’s focus off Zoey. It worked, that dark gaze shifting from her to him. “You didn’t hide your bribes well enough, and when the IRS came calling, Arthur wasn’t about to let you take him down with you.”

“The IRS?” Zoey asked. As far as she knew, the reason Tabula Ra$a operated as it did, a bastion for near lawlessness, was because there was no one around to enforce the laws, not unless they were being paid. It was how the brothels stayed open and how the drugs poured freely into the streets. The IRS bull rushing their way into corporate affairs sounded completely out of the realm to her.

“Yes.” Will said. “The money to bribe customs officials, to hire boats to move product from one end of the world to other, donations to foreign politicians who promised to turn a blind eye to illegal activities within their borders, it all has to come from _somewhere_. Cooking the books is par for the course, every business does it, but smart criminals know how to hide the revenue stream, to make everything appear above board. We thought Mr. Knight here was a smart man, but our assumptions had been incorrect. Over ten years of back-alley dealings nearly bit us in the ass and threatened to destroy all that your father built. It could have destroyed the foundations of the city and left it in nearly bankrupt and open for the vultures to swoop in, until Arthur made it all disappear.”

Logan growled menacingly at that. “He made _me_ disappear! He took everything away from me to save his own damn skin, made Echo scrub me from the face of the earth to keep the IRS from digging too deeply, and left me with _nothing_!” He spat.

Will was unimpressed. “He left you with your life. And enough money to start over again in a quieter locale. So what you couldn’t enjoy your former extravagant lifestyle? You should be thanking him for letting you live, instead of dumping your corpse in a landfill. Arthur trusted you to do your job and your utter stupidity failed him.”

Logan clenched his fists and crossed the dirt floor to loom over Will. “I suppose it was you whispering in his ear, like always, telling him to just get rid of me. The last time we ever spoke, he mentioned how you all wanted him to make me dead, that it was much easier, but that he just couldn’t bear the thought.”

With a casual shrug, Will stared up at him. “I merely informed him that keeping you alive could eventually cause problems for us down the road, and putting you in the ground would make things smoother for us in the long run, should you decide a life of exile no longer suited your expensive tastes. We all agreed, but Arthur wouldn’t hear it. He appreciated your contributions and considered you a friend, even after we spent _months_ cleaning up your mess.”

“A _real_ friend wouldn’t have cast me off and left me begging for table scraps in a third world country under a fake name, away from the wealth and privilege I helped him build!”

“We _all_ helped Arthur build Tabula Rasa, and if I had royally screwed the pooch the way you did, I would expect no different a fate for my failures.”

Logan hauled back an arm and punched Will in the face. “The high and mighty Will Blackwater,” He said pedantically as Will spit out a mouthful of blood, “talking to me about failures, when you failed to see how I was setting _you_ up. Boy but do I still remember how to get your goat, dangling just the right kinda bait to lure you in. Now look at you, caged in this hellhole in your dirty underwear with no one but Arthur’s bastard to preach to.”

He craned his head around to wink at Zoey. “Heard my boys had some fun with you, bastard. Made ‘em work hard for it, too.” Logan pointed to the man with the bandage on his nose. “Figured a girl like you had to give it away just to get anyone to touch you.”

“You’re not really here to open old wounds, are you?” Will said loudly when he saw Logan look toward Zoey. “You clearly want something and have gone to great lengths to get it. Just tell me what you want, so we end this quickly and quietly. There's no need to resort to any ugliness.”

His words had no effect, as Logan straightened up from his spot in front of Will and meandered over to her. “I know what he’s doing.” Logan said, circling around Zoey to lean over behind her, putting his mouth by her ear. She flinched away from him. “Watched him do it a million times, make himself the center of attention to protect his friends, the Magician making you look at one hand, so you don’t see the other hand put a gun to your back. Well, I say friends, but a man like Will don’t exactly have friends. Still, he must care about you, which is why I have _fun_ plans in store for you.”

He kissed Zoey’s cheek with his dry, cracked lips and she felt like she was going to hurl.

“Goddammit,” Will said angrily, “you know the only person who is going to get you what you want is _me_ , not her, so if you’re going to threaten anyone, threaten me.”

“Oh, but I _am_ threatening you, Will. You _are_ going to get me what I want, because if you don’t, she’s going to pay for your _failures_.” He levered himself back up, his belly brushing against Zoey’s shoulder, making her shiver. Logan moved to stand between them. “I had a long time to make sure everything goes according to plan, a long time surveilling you, and a man such as yourself wouldn’t have kept this dear girl alive, trotting her around town like a suitable replacement for Arthur if you didn’t _need_ her. Tell me…” He grinned sadistically. “Are you screwing the boss’ daughter, making her feel important while you use her as your meal ticket.”

Logan glanced around at Zoey. “You know he likes ‘em with some meat on their bones? Pretends not to, but you spend enough time in a foxhole with people, you learn real quick what kind of freaky shit turns their crank.”

Zoey flushed crimson and turned her head away, which only made Logan crow with laughter. “Oh-ho! I guess I had that one pegged wrong! And here I thought I was doing him a favor, throwing you two in here like this!”

“At least it’s better than what turns your crank, Logan. Tell me…” Will parroted sarcastically, “how many girls did you have to pay off to keep from turning you in? How many did you leave physically scarred?”

Logan said nothing to that, and instead snapped his fingers sharply. One of the men produced a chunky device that Zoey recognized as an old satellite phone. Logan pulled the thick antenna into place and held it out to Will.

“You’re going to call this in, and you’re going to say exactly what I tell you to say. No code words, no attempts to be clever, or I will splatter Zoey’s brain on the wall. I want my fair share, one fifth of _everything_. The brothels, the casinos, the drugs, the weapons, the organ farms, every seedy little operation you have your fingers in, I want a fifth, placed into a bank account that even Echo won’t be able to trace, and I want it by tomorrow. Make it happen, Magician.”

Without a word, Will took the phone and dialed a number, placing it on speaker phone. After a few rings, Andre’s voice came over the line.

“Andre Knox, lover extraordinaire, at your service!”

“Andre, it’s Will, I need you to listen carefully-”

“Jesus, Will, you know better than to call my player phone! Wait… how do _you_ know this number?”

“Is that really important right now? I don’t feel like going into it, not when-”

Logan pulled out a gun he had tucked in the back of his pants and pointed it at Zoey. “Don’t try playing for time. They won’t be able to trace the call, no matter how long you talk.”

“Oh, _damn_ , is that Logan? Tell that shit-stain he still owes me a thousand bucks!”

“Again, is that really important?” Will asked in annoyance. “There are eight men here with guns on Zoey and myself, and the only way to get them to stop is to transfer…” He paused, running the mental arithmetic in his head, “a quarter billion dollars into a bank account I will provide the number of.”

There was a mixture of cursing on the other end, and Zoey knew everyone was listening in. That boded well, she thought. All of them together, working to end this nightmare. Hopefully. If Andre was answering his player phone, it meant he must have gotten bored.

“That’s a little more than some pocket change, Will. It’s gonna take time to liquidate that much... more than a day.”

Logan grinned, looking at the phone. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Or what?” Andre sniped. “You’ll send parts of them to us in neat little packages, one for every day we don’t get you your money? News flash, dumbass, technology’s gotten a lot better since your day, and they can do wonders with prosthetics now. I think Will would enjoy having a mechanical dick. Would probably get more use out of it than his real one…”

Zoey piped up over Andre’s musings. “Has someone been taking care of Stench Machine while I’ve been gone? You know how he worries about me.” She was afraid of him getting depressed without her and tear up the Casa to demonstrate his displeasure.

Logan thumbed back the hammer of his gun, and his men followed suit, aiming their barrels toward Zoey. “I said no code words!”

“It’s not a code word,” Will said, “it’s her _cat_.” He looked at Logan like he should have known that, and to Andre, he said, “But seriously, have you been? We all know how terrifying that little monster can be when he sets his mind to it.”

“He’s not a monster,” Zoey said, offended, before conceding, “… most days.”

“Just shut up and focus!” Logan shouted over them, trying to regain some semblance of control. He did so by jamming the muzzle of the gun against Zoey’s temple. “If you do not get my money by tomorrow, I have a man in my employ who spent time on the Ivory Coast performing cutting rituals on young girls, and he’ll send home a piece of sweet little Zoey that she might be particularly _fond_ of…”

The tall black man grinned at her maniacally.

Zoey shrugged. “What, like my boob? I think I’ll have enough left over to make a spare.”

Logan actually froze at this and stared at her like she was insane. He then turned to Will, whose back had gone ramrod straight. Zoey gulped. That wasn’t a good sign. “How are you supposed to threaten people when they’re too stupid to understand what you’re saying? Kids these days, I swear…”

Will said nothing, but Zoey watched the color drain from his face. “A cutting ritual isn’t… they take a young girl and forcibly remove her clitoris, under the notion that it will make them less likely to cheat on their future husbands.”

“More than that, boss man,” the tall man said in a thick African accent, “depending on how pure you like your girls.” His eyes gleamed menacingly.

“Well, _fuck that_!” Zoey screamed, eyes going wide. “Give him the money, Andre, all of it, I don’t give a shit, just do _not_ let him do that to me!”

“Don’t worry, Z,” Andre said in a strained voice, “you know I got you. Just gimme the account number and we'll get it done.”

Logan rattled off the number to Andre and then took the phone from Will, ending the call.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? And by tomorrow, all of this will be over with. Easy peasy.” Logan said, like they were discussing the weather.

Will wasn’t amused. “Don’t act like once you get the money, you aren’t going to kill us both. You won’t want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be as magnanimous as Arthur and let you escape with your lives. I did plan for every eventuality and I’ll have enough money to make sure even _you_ can’t get back at me.”

Logan jerked his neck toward the door and his men lowered their guns. “Now don’t get any bright ideas. Andre was right, technology has advanced pretty far. This door we made can only be opened with a set of special tools, something the military cooked up to breach the compounds of cultists and terrorists. Once it’s back in place, you won’t be able to move it. Oh, and I brought you a little present, a reward for being so good.”

Buzz Cut exited through the hole and came back with a plastic bag. From within he pulled out two bottles of water and a white paper bag. He carelessly tossed them to the floor.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Logan said. “And one way or another, I’m getting my pound of flesh.”

Zoey and Will were kicked face down on the floor. The ass goblins circled around them toward the opening, guns trained on them as they backed out slowly one by one. Zoey tilted her head up after the last one left. From her position, she could see the slab they had removed from the wall lying on the ground outside.

Four silver prongs had been placed on each corner, piercing the concrete. Four of the gunmen grabbed a prong and as one, they lifted the slab as though it weighed nothing, hauling it over to the hole so it could be slid back into place. When it was done, she could barely tell where the hole had been, it was _that_ seamless.

They heard the car doors slam shut and after a minute, it was quiet once more.

Zoey got to her feet and ran over to Will, grabbing his arm to help lever him up. Once he was upright, she looped her arms around his waist, hugging him close.

“Please tell me that you managed to get a message to Andre… that some of that was planned to tell them where we are.”

Will hugged her back, smoothing his hands over her back when he could feel her shaking. “Unfortunately, no. Logan is familiar with our methods and I chose not to risk it. But by the sheer fact that they now know who has us, we’re definitely better off than we were an hour ago.”

Zoey glanced down at the water bottles. Just looking at them caused her dry mouth and throat to twinge painfully in desperation. “Do you think they’re poisoned?”

Will hesitated. “… I think that one way or another, Logan is going to kill us once he has what he wants. He’s smart enough to know to keep his face off camera, seeing as he’s not supposed to even _exist_ , and because _we_ made him not exist, Echo won’t be able to track his movements or how he’s funding this little operation. Barring any last-minute miracles, tomorrow will most likely be our last day on earth, so does it matter if they’re poisoned or not?”

When he put it like that, Zoey figured at least dying by her own choice was better than being surgically mutilated if the Suits couldn’t get Logan his money. And she’d be with Will, so it wasn’t like she’d go out alone.

She pulled away from Will and padded softly over the bottles. She took one for herself and tossed the other to him. The seal cracked when she twisted the cap off, which she took as a good sign, and that first sip was near orgasmic. It was piss-warm, but it still felt amazing on her parched throat. She guzzled down only a few mouthfuls, remembering the water had to last them until tomorrow.

With a satisfied _aah_ , Zoey screwed the lid back on the bottle, watching Will as he drank deeply from his own bottle, long neck tipped back, Adam’s apple bobbing. She tore her gaze away and regarded the white bag warily. She could see little spots of grease had turned portions of the bag opaque.

Zoey bent down to pick it up and opened it. Inside were two dinner rolls and two pieces of cornbread. Leftovers from some truck stop diner near where they were. The bag was stone cold, and she could see where the bread had hardened from being left out overnight.

“Well, if you want to set the table while I pee, we can have breakfast.”

*~*~*

Later that night, Will propped himself up in the corner once more and giving up on any pretext, Zoey was curled up at his side, head pillowed on his chest. He carded his fingers through her hair in gentle, lazy strokes.

If it was going to be their last night alive, there was no sense in keeping up appearances.

“So you had to destroy your wedding photos?” Zoey asked disbelievingly.

“Not all of them, just the ones Logan was in. It was easier than trying to airbrush him out of every last one. Arthur had turned the reception into a massive affair, and it all ended up on Blink. Echo spent days erasing any sign of him just from that night. By the time it was all done, I thought she was going to murder your father.”

Zoey snorted, unable to blame her. “I’m starting to understand the logic of just ending things with a bullet and a nice flower arrangement for the funeral. Could have avoided all of this if Arthur had just made the hard decision.”

“To be fair, I never would have expected this play from Logan. He was never a bag man, preferring to pay people off to smooth over the rough edges. Said it made people more likely to deal with him the future, if he approached them with the purse strings open instead of a loaded gun.”

“Catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Zoey said. She shifted her head to look up at Will. “You should give it a try sometime.”

He casually rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “If I did that for everyone we did business with, it wouldn’t take long before they sensed weaknesses that could be exploited.”

“I didn’t mean everyone else.” Zoey replied pointedly. “I can never tell from day to day which version of you I’ll have to deal with. The one who makes sexist comments at board meetings or the one who makes flirty comments about my pajamas.” She tapped his finger against his chest. “And don't think I've forgiven you for standing me up on pantsless movie weekend.” It had been a while ago, but she still wondered what would have happened if Carlton hadn’t interrupted them.

“Discretion is the better part of valor.” Will’s voice took on odd tone. “I calculated the benefits of one or both of us making a move against the potential fallout and-”

Zoey lifted her head, holding up her hand to stop him. “I’m sorry, _fallout_?”

“Yes, Zoey, fallout. Fallout if you decided you were just bored one weekend and wanted a fling, which had the potential to tarnish our working relationship. Fallout if you wanted more than a fling, but it only had a brief lifespan, again tarnishing our working relationship after the fact. Not to mention what would happen once it got out on Blink. You’re not in a position where you can make decisions about your life outside of the public eye. People would make assumptions, they would insinuate things about you that would make you upset or second-guess yourself, and I didn’t want to put you through that. It was just easier to leave things as they were.”

She stared at him flatly. “Did what _I_ want ever factor into your stupid calculations or did you just assume, like the chauvinistic pig you are, that I couldn’t pull up my big-girl britches when the trolls started roasting me alive? I don’t need you to constantly protect me.”

"And just what is it that you _do_ want from me?"

Zoey shrugged, suddenly unsure. It was one thing to fantasize about something, it was another to actually make it a reality. "I dunno. For you to see me as an equal, not some stunted cretin Arthur left behind for you to deal with. For you to see me as woman, capable of making her own decisions and mistakes, not a girl that requires your protection."

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, genuinely apologetic. He slipped his fingers through Zoey’s hair, cupping the back of her neck to gently pull her back down onto his chest. “I was only doing what I thought was best, and I didn't intend to make you feel that way." He settled his cheek on her head. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Sure,” Zoey said, closing her eyes, “I’ll forgive you if you can protect me from these maniacs.”

Will choked out a laugh.

* * *

**DAY THREE**

Will and Zoey had woken up with the first cracks of daylight shining in through the ceiling, somberly eating what little food they had left, and polished off the last dregs of water since they obviously weren’t poisoned.

They waited with bated breath, expecting the hammer to drop at any moment, but by the afternoon, they’d just gotten bored. The room had begun to heat up, so they stretched themselves out on the floor, lying on their sides as they played a game of tic-tac-toe in the dirt. Zoey was beating him ten-to-three, but she suspected his heart really wasn’t in the game.

“I should have wagered some money on this,” Zoey quipped, drawing a line through her squares with a finger, “maybe then you would have been a challenge.”

“I’d apologize but I’m just having a hard time accepting that I’m going to die in my underwear playing a children’s game.” Will said wistfully.

Zoey shrugged a shoulder and smoothed out the dirt to start a new game. "You get used to it, the idea that no matter how you _think_ you might die, reality has a much more bonkers fate in store for you. The Soul Collector, you and the Suits, Molech. I eventually just stopped imagining dying in my bed an old maid, or with my kids and grandkids around me, watching me shit myself, because fate would never be that kind. It's kinda freeing, actually, in a morbid sort of way. How did you honestly imagine you'd go out? In a blaze of glory, two gorgeous women with ridiculous boob jobs in each arm, daring god to put a stop to you?"

Will huffed through his nose. "Not exactly, but..." He thought of his wife, who probably never suspected she'd be mowed down in a car chase she wasn't even involved in. Perhaps Zoey had a point. He managed to smile at her. "But as far as worse fates, this isn't so bad." He waved a hand over the dirt grid of their game. "Besides, I'm with you. And you have the boobs of two women, so there's that."

Zoey snorted loudly but the sound of car doors shutting from outside effectively cut her off.

The boredom vanished.

Hearts pounding in their chests, they leapt to their feet, eyes glued to the spot where the door would appear.

“Well, Mr. Blackwater, any last words before we become vulture chow?”

Will hesitated, came to a decision, turned to Zoey and pulled her in for a fiery kiss. He was so unreasonably taller than her he had to stoop down, while Zoey pushed herself up on her tiptoes.

It was disgusting.

Three compounded days of sour morning breath, their sweaty skin, and general inability to maintain their hygiene made created a trifecta of yuck. Zoey was fairly certain there were disused ashtrays that tasted better than either of their mouths.

She wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, deepening the kiss.

Zoey had wanted this for a while now, no way she was going to let bad breath stop her once she had it. His lips pulsed against hers hungrily, tangling their tongues together with a wanton growl of desire she never would have thought him capable of. She moaned into his mouth, teeth nipping at his lips. The lewd, wet sound echoed off the walls. If it was going to be their last kiss, at least it would be memorable.

His hands went to her hips and around to her butt, kneading the flesh greedily.

She huffed a laugh and broke away to peer up at him. “Your dad _really_ messed you up, didn’t he?” She breathed into his lips.

“In ways I don’t even want you to imagine.” He said, dragging her back into the kiss once more.

From outside, the makeshift door was pulled back and Will broke away from Zoey, quickly placing himself in front of her. She clasped her hands on his forearms, planting herself firmly at his back, as though he would be able to hide her from Logan.

The man himself sauntered into the room, saw the two of them and dramatically stuck his nose in the air, sniffing loudly. “Aw, that’s a damn shame. Figured with one last night, Will might finally get that stick out of his ass and try to get into your pants, take that thing for a spin before my man here demolishes it.”

Logan hooked a thumb over his shoulder as the tall black man entered the room, a leather bundle in his hand. He stopped at Logan’s side.

“Get her down, if they haven’t gotten my money yet, I want them to hear her scream.”

The tall man nodded and moved toward Will and Zoey. Will tugged away from her grasp, stepping forward to shove him back. There was a brief tussle, Logan and the tall man trying to subdue Will before Buzz Cut and his cohorts came busting in, guns at the ready. That was enough to stop Will cold, sticking his hands in the air in defeat. He shot Zoey an apologetic look. Him dying would serve her no purpose, and at least if he was still there with her, right until the very end, he could be some sort of comfort to her for what came next.

Logan chuckled as Will gave up and roughly pushed him down onto his knees. “You should stick to _talking_ your way out of these things.” He said, grinning down at him. Logan motioned to Zoey and his men hopped into action. The tall man, Bandage Nose, and one other crossed the room, Bandage Nose grabbing her by the wrists to twist her arm around her back. She cried out painfully when she was forced to her knees as well.

Tall Man unwrapped the string that tied his leather bundle together, revealing an array of surgical devices tucked into little pouches. Zoey refused to react in any way, not wanting to give any of them the satisfaction, but she could feel the tears forming in her eyes.

“Now,” Logan started congenially, “let’s see if we can avoid any ugliness, as you say.” The satellite phone reappeared, and Logan handed it over to Will. “Make the call.”

Not needing to be told twice, Will snatched the phone up and redialed Andre’s number.

“Andre Knox, the man of your dreams, how may I service you?”

Will frowned. “It’s Will.”

“If you don’t stop calling this number, Will, I’m gonna sue you for harassment!”

“… I’ll have my lawyers contact yours. Do you have the money?”

Andre laughed, deep and loud, at Will. “Of course we do, you honestly think we’d leave you and Zoey swinging in the wind in just your underwear?”

Will blinked, whipping his head around to Zoey. “ _Get down_!”

Several things happened at once.

Will and Zoey hit the deck. There was a faint zipping sound, followed by one of the gunmen flopping to the ground in a boneless heap. The boom of the shot arrived a second after. Panic filled the room. Another body dropped in quick succession, and the gunmen scattered from the door.

Zoey took the opportunity to kick Bandage Nose right in the kneecap. He shouted and dropped to the floor, where Zoey kicked him in the face again. He toppled over unconscious and Zoey immediately reached for his gun. Tall Man and the other ass goblins were shouting at one another, their weapons still pointed at her and Will as they looked to Logan for orders.

Logan had pulled his own gun, the barrel directly in Will’s face as he screamed, face turning a violent shade of purple.

A gun marched into the room, followed by the arm of Echo, decked out in a black bodysuit with all sorts of straps and pouches cinched over her thighs and chest in a way that made Zoey insanely jealous, knowing she’d never look that cool.

“Give it up, Logan,” Echo said, jaw set in a dangerous line, “drop the gun and kick it over to me.”

“You drop yours, or I swear to god, I will blow his face off!” Logan shouted, jabbing the gun at Will.

Zoey didn’t even realize she’d pulled the trigger until Logan collapsed, his crotch a ragged, bloody hole. He howled in pain, spittle flying from his face and landing in the dirt. His gun skittered across the floor, his hands too busy trying to clutch at his wound.

“You fucking bitch!”

Zoey stared at her gun in awe, yet was unable to feel even the slightest bit guilty.

Seeing their boss flopping on the ground like a fish, the other men deflated, knowing they’d been caught. Tall Man let his tools fall to the floor with a metallic clatter.

Zoey shakily got to her feet, keeping the gun on him. The three remaining men, under the weight of Echo and Zoey’s weapons, gathered themselves in a group in the back of the room, dragging Bandage Nose with them. They stared between them and Logan writhing on the floor, and Zoey watched their eyes go hard, thinking they were going to die.

 _Now you know it feels_ , she thought bitterly. She pulled the hammer back on the gun.

Will calmly stood up, like he’d been on the ground searching for a contact lens, and gingerly stepping over Logan to stand between Echo and Zoey. He held out his hand to Zoey. “It’s over. Let me have the gun.”

Zoey ignored him and pointed her gun at Tall Man, blowing his dick off. He joined Logan on the floor, their caterwauling filling the room. “That’s for wanting to take my clit, you psycho fart master!” She brushed back her bangs, huffed out a breath and held out the gun to Will. “I need _several_ baths.” She said.

Will smiled down at her, warm and genuine. “I have never agreed with you more.” He then turned to Echo, all business. “What gave them away?”

“That would the fart master over there.” Echo said with a smirk, motioning to Tall Man. “Female genital mutilation is incredibly illegal, and Interpol keeps tabs on people who still perform the procedure, or people they _suspect_ do it. I knew Logan would be smart enough to keep himself miles away from any Blink feeds, but Mr. Tugata over here was flagged the moment he hit our borders. Wasn’t too hard to track him after that.”

Will nodded, beyond pleased that for all his self-adulation, Logan had been the one to ruin his own plan. Seemed a fitting fate, considering. “Excellent work, as always.”

Echo wrinkled her nose at him. “Why don’t you two step outside, get some sunshine, maybe air out a little?”

“Is it that bad?” Zoey asked, mortified.

“Uh… it reeks of B.O. and piss in here, so yeah, it’s bad. Seriously, go take a walk, we’ve got this covered.”

Logan moaned miserably, curling up on himself.

Will held out an arm, indicating the door. “Shall we?”

Nodding eagerly, Zoey all but ran for the opening, only to bump into Andre, who was trying to squeeze his large frame inside. “Zoey, hey- goddamn, girl, put them titties away!” He raised his hands to block his vision, backing away to let her and Will exit.

Budd and Wu were behind him, and at the first sight of them up close, they immediately focused their gazes elsewhere, to keep from looking down at their half-naked bodies. Zoey didn’t care. The desert breeze felt amazing on her skin and she breathed in the clear air deeply. She closed her eyes to bask in the sunlight.

“Jeez, Will, you angling for a modeling gig or something, in them little things?” Budd asked, chuckling loudly.

Zoey opened her eyes.

Budd, Andre, and Wu were standing around Will, wide grins on their faces as they ribbed him.

Wu had a long black rifle case slung over his back, and he kept having to readjust the strap from laughing too hard. “I thought models were supposed to make you _want_ to buy the underwear!”

“Those ain’t even underwear, it’s more like a little hanky he dangled over his bits.” Andre crowed uproariously.

“At least I _wear_ underwear.” Will replied, eyes narrowed at Andre teasingly. “No wonder you constantly complain about jock-itch, the way you go commando.”

None of them were looking at her, almost pretending she didn’t exist as they laughed at their banter. They were purposefully going after Will, loudly giving him a hard time to keep her from feeling self-conscious about herself, not oogling her after obviously having a group of gunmen do just that for days.

Zoey wanted to cry with gratitude.

“Hey, Andre?” She asked over their good-natured ribbing.

He turned to her, firmly keeping his eyes on hers. “Yes, ma’am?” He asked.

“Can I borrow your jacket?”

Andre was in one of his customary bombastic suits, even on a mission in the desert heat and he quickly shucked himself out the jacket. He made a big show of gallantly holding it open by the collar for her so she could slide her arms inside the sleeves. It was so large she could have wrapped it around herself twice. She watched them all visibly relax once she was covered.

“No offense,” Andre said, “but you can burn that jacket when you’re done. Y’all smell like a dead ass that’s been left out to rot.”

“And just think!” Zoey said brightly. “You have to drive us back to the city!”

*~*~*

Once it was all said and done, Logan and his men properly taken care of, Zoey and Will were filled in on what had happened after they’d been taken as they drove back to the Casa.

When it had become clear that something had gone wrong, the Suits had raced out into the desert after them, heading toward the last place their phones had pinged before disappearing. They had expected the other party to use jammers to ward off any attempts to surveil them, but when the BMW had gone dark about twenty minutes later, along the trackers in Will’s cufflinks, they figured shit had hit the fan. They had continued on in that general direction anyway, hoping they’d find some sign of what had happened, but hadn’t had any luck after searching throughout the night.

The desert was a big place, devoid of streetlights, and the Suits had a distinct disadvantage, given the head start the gunmen had.

A report of someone seeing smoke was called out over the scanners, which led them to a taped-up crime scene of the burned-out husk of the BMW, a charred body inside. The man Will had killed in a struggle.

With no leads, not even tire treads or footprints to analyze from the scene, they’d gone back to the Casa to coordinate with Kowalski and the security team. Budd, who been the initial contact for the whole affair, had guiltily tried to call in to the organization Logan's men had claimed to work for, but it turned out no one had ever heard of them. He'd been taken for a fool. He'd then tried to cash in favors to get satellite tracking images of where the meeting was supposed to have taken place but had been stonewalled by both the government and private contractors. Turns out neither were fans of Zoey, and probably thought her disappearing from the face of the earth was a good thing.

Budd informed them that the ones who turned him down were now persona non grata, in case it ever came up again in the future. Will nodded in agreement with that designation, mentally filing away their names.

The first day had been hard, all of them scrambling to come up with _something_. No one at the local truck stop saw any suspicious activity, or what passed for suspicious to them. The police in that area were easily bought for information but with no witnesses for a clandestine meeting, they had nothing to go on. They had called around to different motels, asking around for any strange looking people coming and going at all hours of the night, but were pretty much told all the people who frequented those places were strange, and there was certainly no one who matched Will or Zoey’s descriptions.

Wu had been beside himself, prone to angry outbursts for letting his charge out of his sight, even though Zoey had agreed to go out alone. They had to talk him down several times after he threatened to hand in his resignation, if they’d managed to find Zoey and Will alive, then they had to talk him down from promises of giving up the bodyguarding game altogether, it they were found dead.

Echo had sequestered herself in the Buffalo Room, hunched over her screens as she tried to find even the smallest trace of them on Blink. She had rudely brushed off any attempts to get her to take a break, proclaiming any time wasted just got their friends closer to death, and she’d even snapped at poor Carlton, when he’d offered to bring her some food.

Budd and Andre confessed to drinking heavily while calling every single one of their contacts seeking information, ashamed at falling for the trap and letting their friends get kidnapped. The Raiden bait had obviously been too good to be true, and they’d been taken for suckers.

By the second day, all of them had been sleep-deprived and grouchy.

The only reason Andre had answered his player phone was because he was still half-drunk and wanted to distract himself, even if he was only for a few minutes.

When Andre asked for clarification on why Will had that particular number memorized, Will explained that for years, when women would hit on him, insistently asking for his phone number, he would always give them Andre’s. It meant he wouldn’t appear rude by giving them a fake number, and shunting them off meant he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore, trusting that Andre would keep them reasonably distracted.

When Will asked why Andre had answered the way he had the second time, knowing it was him, Andre had grinned broadly, a twinkle in his eye.

The first phone call had sent them into overdrive, listening for every little detail that could have tipped them off to where they were being hidden. Birdsong, background traffic, _anything_. They just hadn’t expected Logan, of all people, to give himself away while monologuing about how dangerous he was and how they shouldn’t trifle with him.

The second Echo had heard Logan’s voice, she was off, backtracking through transportation security feeds and customs reports, trying to find out how he’d gotten into the country without tipping his hand. When she had the number to the bank account Logan wanted his money sent to, she’d desperately tried tracing it back to someone, to no avail. He was a ghost, a fart in the wind. She'd cursed herself for doing too good a job in erasing Logan from existence. 

As former associates, they all knew how capable Logan was, his resourcefulness making him lethal, and without any way to find him, they were stuck giving in to his outrageous demands. And even with all their power and resources, there was no way they could come up with the money in time. They were well and truly screwed, which meant Zoey would be brutalized in retribution for their failure. Another day wasted and now the clock was ticking.

It had been Budd who put the idea in Echo’s head.

Sitting back with a drink in his hand after they’d realized they weren’t going to be able to pull off a miracle, he had sighed heavily and said, “I just wanna know where the hell Logan ended up that he crossed paths with a guy who still cuts girls.”

Budd had beamed back at Zoey and Will over the passenger seat, pridefully proclaiming how Echo had kissed him, calling him a genius.

It had taken her less than twenty minutes to find a name on Interpol’s watchlist from the Ivory Coast that matched recent visa entries into the country. After that, it had all been cake. They tracked the man’s movements on Blink and got the plates off a car he’d purchased with cash. On camera, they followed the car out of the city and when they’d lost it, they called the cops whose palms they’d greased to fill in the blanks. Luckily, those cops were humongous racists and they had run the plates a few times (suspicious of any black man who had a driver’s license, apparently) as it passed up and down their lonely stretch of highway.

The Suits had set up a tac team and hauled ass back out to the desert. Echo had sent drones flying up overhead, and it didn’t take long to find the caravan of cars, parked at an old, abandoned building, well off any known maps.

Parking safely enough away, Wu had gone off alone to prowl around the premises, rifle in hand. When he’d returned some time later, he told them there was no sign of Zoey or Will, but that Logan was there, with several other men, all armed to the teeth.

After some debate, they’d decided to camp out and wait, to watch Logan’s movements. He’d had Will and Zoey stashed somewhere, and if they killed him now, they'd never find them. All they had to do now was patiently play the cat to his mouse. They waited all night and that whole morning, anxiously awaiting his move.

By noon, Andre was convinced they were too busy giving each other celebratory blow jobs to remember they had two hostages trapped somewhere.

Finally, Logan and his men left their safehouse and drove south, Echo piloting the drones over top of them so the Suits could follow at a distance without being spotted.

It turns out Logan had stashed them at a decommissioned plant of some sort, half of the building taken by time, the other half by erosion. All that stood intact was a silo looking thing that from the outside, seemed to have no visible doors.

Echo had to research the original plans to the building to discover its specific purpose, but all she could come up with was that whatever used to be stored in there was loaded in from the ceiling. She hadn't thought to bring her climbing gear, but it turned out to be a moot point when they saw Logan's men approach the building.

After watching them create their own door using the military grade entry devices, the Suits had hoofed it from the van to prepare to strike. Wu had sent himself up in a sniper position, relaying over comms what he could see of them through the entrance. Will and Zoey in nothing but their underwear, fighting off Logan’s men.

Echo, Budd, and Andre had thought Wu was joking, all of them asking him to repeat himself.

Andre’s phone rang a few minutes after the kerfuffle, and he’d picked it up with his usual blasé candor, to give off the appearance nothing was amiss, that he was at the Casa sitting comfortably and not ten seconds away from watching Logan’s head explode.

After his carefully coded message to hit the dirt, the bullets had started flying, Echo, Budd, and Andre bolting off toward the silo to provide ground support.

Echo, being in much better shape, had beaten them to the punch.

Zoey listened to the recounted tale with pride bubbling up in her chest. Against all odds, the Suits had saved their lives. They’d even tended to Stench Machine in her absence as best they could, after he’d become a public menace in protest of them not being faster in getting Zoey back to him. Echo showed off her scratches like war wounds.

She was excited about the prospect of going home, but true to form, the adrenaline rush left her wiped and she slept the rest of the way to the Casa, her head on Will’s shoulder.

*~*~*

The only reason Zoey left the tub was because she thought she’d dissolve otherwise. After getting out and toweling herself off, she watched the filthy bathwater swirl down the drain, the last vestiges of the horrific three-day ordeal.

Well, not the last. She’d carry the memories of the terror, the panic, and the phantom sensations of the ass goblins on her flesh for the rest of her life. But at least physically, she was clean, and for now, that suited her just fine. There was plenty of booze and drugs stashed around the house to deal with the emotional trauma later.

Her phone beeped from its place on the sink, Carlton telling her she had a visitor. Zoey’s heart leapt in her chest.

Once they’d returned to the Casa, Will had been adamant about going home to shower until his skin melted off and to get into proper clothes. He'd begged off the Suits' request for a full incident report, telling them they could take care of it later, once he had burned his underwear off with a blowtorch.

She hadn’t heard from him since. A small part of her had wondered that maybe it was just circumstance that led to their little moment, and now that they were back in the real world, things would return to status quo between them, so they could avoid any fallout.

She was about to find out.

Zoey bounced down the stairs, anxiousness bubbling up inside her, and she spotted Will standing in the foyer, once more in a suit, overcoat slung over his arm, fedora in hand. His white skin was pink from where he’d scrubbed away the dirt and grime, the only sign that anything was amiss in his world.

“Well, I can’t smell you from here,” Zoey said, coming to a stop on the landing, “so that’s a plus.”

He turned to face her, lips pulling up in a smile. “Pirate kittens.”

It took Zoey a second to understand what he meant, and she glanced down at herself. Her pajama bottoms were a toxic shade of pink, with smiling kitty faces wearing eyepatches and tricorn hats, little sabers in their paws. In between the kitten pattern was an alternating pattern of treasure chests overflowing with gold and jewels.

He was answering her question from weeks before. “So, you’re saying you don’t like the sombrero skulls?” She asked, the anxiousness leaving her when she realized their status quo was about to change dramatically.

Will shook his head. “Too festive, makes me think of parties I actively try to avoid.” He slowly closed the distance between them, and even with the landing adding a few inches to her height, he was still taller than Zoey.

She raised her arms, sliding her fingers under the lapels of Will’s suit jacket. “The kind where the senior citizen billionaires of the city drool all over me?” She asked, parroting back Will’s earlier assessment of them.

“Not anymore… not if I have anything to say about it.” He replied, hanging his coat and fedora on the banister. He then tugged Zoey closer to him by the drawstrings of her pajamas. She didn’t resist.

“Or they’ll end up buried in a car out in the middle of nowhere?” Zoey pressed her chest against Will’s, and his arms went around her waist, hands sliding down to her butt.

Will had wanted a more public example made of Logan Knight and the ass goblins, but seeing as Logan wasn’t even supposed to exist, he’d agreed to Plan B. Budd and Andre had made a few calls and had loaded them all into one of the town cars, burying it under the desert hardpan. Logan and Tall Man wouldn’t last long, given their wounds, but the others would, gasping for air in the dark next to two bloated corpses.

Zoey shuddered to even think what Will’s Plan A had been.

“Something to that effect, yes.” Will said, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. A week ago, he never would have dreamed he’d be in this position, Zoey gazing up at him longingly, his hands groping her butt. Oh, he knew it was a possibility, Zoey was sometimes ridiculously easy to read, but he had been firmly against indulging her desires, for both their sakes. Now all he wanted was to indulge her until they were both reduced to screaming messes.

Her lips ghosted against Will’s, breathing into him. He smelled like peppermint and scotch. "Don't think I've forgiven you for standing me up, Mr. Blackwater. It wasn't _you_ who protected me from the ass goblins... maybe I should go offer a pantsless movie night to Echo or Wu or Andre, since I know the number to his player phone now."

Will squeezed the flesh of her butt in response to her mocking him teasingly, making Zoey gasp into his mouth in surprised pleasure. "You wouldn't dare." He growled, enjoying the way her eyelashes fluttered shut at his ministrations, the little noises she made.

“Will…” She panted softly.

“Yes?” He asked, feeling her gravity pulling him inexorable into her orbit. He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing against Zoey’s mouth.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now...”

Will grinned, recalling her words from the first night in the silo. “I believe I have some idea.” He whispered before diving in to kiss her hungrily, drinking from her mouth like a man starved.

It definitely _wasn’t_ disgusting.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, technically Logan Knight is not an original character, as he is referenced in _Futuristic Violence & Fancy Suits_, but I obviously took some liberties on a character who is mentioned once.


End file.
